An Unusual Strategy
by Clevingerrr
Summary: During an arena match, the BLU Spy's entire team is wiped out within moments of it beginning. Facing impossible odds, he turns to a different means by which to eliminate the REDs looking for him.


Through sheer incompetency, the Spy was the only surviving member of the BLU team at the Badlands Lumberyard. In fact, not only was he the sole survivor, but he was actively being hunted down by all nine mercenaries of the RED force sent to secure the place. How in the world did he end up in such a sorry state?

_"Recruits, I have a fantastic idea!" the Soldier shouted to the other BLU mercenaries, in spite of them being all within the same spawn room. "Let's stitch half of our munitions onto our clothing, and use all of our cash on-hand to buy cosmetics!"_

_ The Spy looked at him, completely dumbfounded. "You are joking, correct? Please, __**please**__, tell me you are joking."_

_ "This plan is good!" the Heavy shouted back, also unaware of the fact that there was really no reason to shout, "I will attach one hundred rounds of minigun ammo onto my vest!"_

_ "Count me in, lads! I'll strap some highly-volatile grenades all over me!"_

_ "Yeah, who needs all those freakin' weapons, anyway? Wusses, that's who. We can get by with the stuff we're carrying now! I can't wait to grab some new shoes!"_

_ The Spy was at a loss for words. He wanted to warn them that they would get wiped out if that happened, or that the RED team was infamous for using unbalanced weapons, or that buying some new guns might even the odds. Instead, all he could muster was a quiet, "You…people…are…__**idiots**__."_

Thus, when his allies charged out, covered in expensive clothing and basic weaponry, they were eviscerated by a shower of rockets and stickybombs. The Spy had only survived through the combined energy of the L'etranger and the Cloak and Dagger, but he couldn't just uncloak at a time like this. Literally every living being at the Lumberyard was out for his blood, and they were getting more and more irritable by the second.

Currently, he was crouching cautiously on the log bridging the small gap by the left side of the Lumberyard. The RED team had not taken any damage during the initial rush, and thanks to their overly-cautious Medic, they remained healthy and boosted with overheal. He would have started scouting out the area, looking for unfocused stragglers that he could kill and replace, but there were two complications.

First, the RED Pyro and Medic were constantly looking after their teammates and randomly performing spot-checks.

Second, he made the mistake of trusting the Soldier for loadout advice.

_"I am not entirely sure, Soldier," he had said, glancing hesitantly at the Japanese farming tool in front of him, "this seems rather…risky to use. Are you positive this will suffice?"_

_ The Soldier grinned at him, cocky as could be. "Of course I'm positive, Spy! The Conniver's Kunai may look useless and make you feel weaker, but it drains health on backstabs! When we charge in and start causing chaos, you can stab everyone by surprise and survive when their teammates finally notice you!"_

That would be the last time he would ever take the Soldier's advice. Though, to be fair, he had equipped the Kunai before the Soldier announced his "brilliant" plan to his team of fresh-faced recruits.

No, if he was going to take these people down for the count, he would have to use unorthodox strategies. He would have to think like the people hunting him down. What could potentially be used to throw off their alertness? What did mercenaries from both sides treasure more than anything?

While he pondered this question, the Scout and Sniper came out to the side of the central building. Like the other members of their team, they wore streamlined, light cosmetics, and wielded flashy, golden weapons that glowed with each kill.

"Ey, Spy!" the Scout shouted at the shed nearby. "If you come out, I'll give ya some of those French girly mags you love so much! Come on, you know you want it!"  
The Spy felt like snorting at him. Was the Scout moronic enough to think that he would give up his position for something as cheap as a porn magazine? Then he realized he was talking about the Scout, and concluded that yes, he was that stupid.

The Sniper, looking more exasperated than usual, said to him, "Mate, I don't he's in there. Let's just meet up with the other blokes and get some sort of organized search going."

"Yeah, he is. Just-give me a moment-HA, GOT YA!" He wildly swung his wooden bat as he sprinted into the shed, swatting around at the air as if the Spy were to materialize there at any time. When nothing happened, he trudged out of the shed. "Freakin' suit-wearin' pansy. When I find him, I'm shovin' my bat up his ass. He might enjoy that though, so I guess I better rethink that…"

The biggest relief to the Spy, aside from having a mouth-breather like the Scout search for him, was the choice in location. The Lumberyard was located high in a mountain range, meaning that storms moved quickly. If he were in the Sawmill, though, he would be dealing with nonstop rain, which would make him much more noticeable while cloaked. In the sunlight, though, he would look just like another bit of heat haze.

"Man, those stupid cap rules," the Scout complained to no one in particular, "if weren't for them, we'd be on a bus home, instead of dickin' around in a crappy log factory!"

"It's a _Lumberyard_, Scout. And there's not much we can do about those rules. It's not our fault that the angry lady on the intercom locked down the control point for maintenance!"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. It's just pretty unusual, that's all."

Just like that, an idea popped into the Spy's head. While the two RED mercenaries slowly walked back into the building housing the control point, he mulled over the revelation had experienced.

Unusuals.

That is how he would get to the REDs, and how he would get off of this rock with his life.

One of the previous spies had left their team because of them, coasting off of the riches obtained by selling a rare unusual hat. Every mercenary he had met spoke openly about their dream unusual, and the lucky few wearing those ridiculous hats obtained instant respect and authority. No man (or woman, but he could never tell with the Pyro) could resist the temptation of getting their greedy hands on a potentially-valuable item like that.

They would never expect anything bad from an unusual. All unusuals were mostly harmless, right?

Making sure no one was looking, the Spy snuck into the RED spawn, turning the dial of their landline softly and steadily, turning his head occasionally to make sure that no one noticed the telephone floating in mid-air. When the call went through, he was greeted by the boisterous voice of Mann Co.'s CEO.

"THIS IS SAXTON HALE, OWNER AND CEO OF MANN CO! YOU HAVE CONTACTED OUR GIFTAPULT SERVICES FOR VIOLENTLY LAUNCHING PRESENTS AT YOUR FRIENDS OR YOUR LOVED ONES! By using this service, you acknowledge that we are not liable for causing any damage to your friends or loved ones caused by our giftapulting. NAME THE ITEMS YOU WANT US TO DELIVER, AND IT WILL ARRIVE SOMEWHERE AROUND YOUR LOCATION IN THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES!"

The Spy put his mouth close to the receiver. "One key to the Badlands Lumberyard for the RED team. Be sure it has no return address."

"YOU'VE GOT IT, MY BACKSTABBING FRENCH FRIEND! ONE KEY, ON THE WAY!" The sound of a wooden catapult lurching forward was audible in the back, and the line immediately went dead.

The Spy had to act fast. Going back the way he came, he looked around the gib-covered vicinity of the BLU spawn. The BLU Soldier had a crucial part of this operation on his corpse, and the Spy would have to procure it if he wanted this to go smoothly.

Among the neat pile of gore erected for some reason by the RED team was the Soldier's torso, separated from his legs and filled with buckshot from when he attempted to crawl over to his attackers and bite them. Sifting through his uniform, he found the filled Fancy Spellbook that would make this pay off.

Looking at him now, it was easy to see why they had been killed so quickly. Despite the mild climate, the Soldier was wearing a heavy arctic coat, a black decorative helmet, and a thick, fake beard. He looked absolutely ridiculous, but then again, he was not the only one who had attempted that sort of style. Their Medic had worn a vision-obstructing bird mask, a useless pair of night-vision goggles, and a 18th century physician's coat, and had suffered the same fate as everyone else on BLU.

Unlike the telephone, the spellbook turned invisible once it came into contact with the Spy's cloaked form. Opening it to the "combat section," he aimed his fingers at the Armored Authority the Soldier was wearing, and whispered, "Capatus crepitus! Imputum fulmenus! Barpo kabalto!"

The helmet began to shake and shudder, as the odd combination of magic spells altered its very chemical makeup. Hurriedly, the Spy picked it up, dashed over to the pile of crates in the central building, and slipped it into the nearest one he could reach. Re-doing the lock to avoid suspicion, he pushed it outwards more in order to make it more likely to be opened first.

As if it were on-cue, the RED Demoman shouted, "Incoming!" and a large, golden key crashed into the yard. One by one, the RED team inched out of cover and towards the new arrival.

"I presume everyone is alright?" their Spy asked, keeping a lookout for anyone creeping up on them. Frankly, the Spy was insulted that his counterpart would suspect him of doing anything so amateurish. Then again, his entire team was composed of amateurs, so it was not entirely an unjustified thought.

"Alright? Hell, I'm actually pretty pleased!" the Engineer said, prying the key loose from the ground. "Some kind-hearted fella just sent us a key!"

The RED Soldier backed up, pulling the Medic with him. "Be careful, Engi! It might be some sort of commie weapon! What if it's Joseph Stalin's key? Or, even worse, what if it records music illegally and shares it with the world?"

The Engineer shook it a couple of times, then put it up against his ear. "Nope, it's not hollow. It's just a normal key."

"Well, since that BLU Spy ain't showin' up anytime soon, wanna crack open a crate or two?"

"Sure, it's always nice to get rid of that clutter. Pyro, Heavy, you stand guard near us and make sure that Spy doesn't try any tricks."

"Mmph mmph mmph!" the Pyro cried enthusiastically. The RED team, weapons still at the ready, moved into the crate storage room with the Spy trailing them from a distance. He stopped once he was within range of the gate control panel.

His heart raced as the Engineer sifted through the crates in the back. For this to work, he would need to open up the front crate. If he did anything other than that, then it was back to the drawing board. Well, back to the landline to order more keys, but he risked getting noticed with that.

The Engineer's teammates stood by closely, enamored with the high stakes gambling that crate-opening entailed. He reviewed each crate one by one, meticulously looking them over for signs of damage. The Spy hoped that his forced entry would be unnoticeable, but engineers were usually very good about noticing minor details.

"Ah hell, I'll just go with the close one." He pulled the #43 crate closer to him and his teammates, so that he was sitting directly in front of its lock while they stood over it.

Now, the moment of truth. The Spy uncloaked behind a barrel, obscuring him from the Pyro's watchful gaze while keeping him close to the gate control panel. He readied his Kunai and Sapper, peering out from a blind spot to monitor the situation.

"Here goes nothing," the Engineer said, inserting the key into the crate's lock, as it slowly churned and released its contents.

Sitting on a stand in the middle was an Armored Authority, bathed in an unnatural green energy.

"Hot damn, you got lucky!" The Scout shouted. "Look at it, it's freakin' awesome!"

As if he couldn't believe it were real, the Engineer tapped the helmet twice, confirming that it was, in fact, real. Grinning from ear to ear, the Engineer grabbed it eagerly and tossed it in the air, catching it and throwing it up again!"

"Whoooowee! Would you look at that?" He coughed a few times, then said, "It's just too good to be true, ain't it!"

"You said it-" the Soldier coughed harder than the Engineer, rubbing his eyes in discomfort, "-that is a fine-" he coughed even harder than before, keeping himself up by holding onto the Demoman, "-looking helmet!"

The Scout's eyes were turning red. "Man, my mouth tastes like freakin' metal. Is it hot in here, or…"

The Demoman lurched forward, then vomited all over the metallic floor. The Heavy gripped his head, yelling in pain, and fell down onto his back. The Pyro, noticing the commotion, ran towards his/her/its teammates in concern.

"What the hell's goin' on?!" the Scout cried, blood now leaking from his nose as he lost his balance, collapsing onto another set of crates.

The Medic's eyes widened in horror. "Zis is no unusual! Zis hat is releasing some sort of potent radiation! Ve must clear ze area!"

Acting fast, the Spy placed a Sapper onto the gate's controls and jammed his knife onto it, slipping under it as it forcibly shut, trapping the RED team inside of the central control point's hub with the toxic hat. He watched as they unsuccessfully tried to toss the hat out of one of the barred windows, then began pounding on the blast doors.

"Open up!" an unidentifiable voice shouted amidst the clamor, "We're dying in here!"  
The Spy merely adjusted his tie. "I'm afraid not," he said into the building's intercom.

The voices began to die down. The Medic desperately shouted, "Kill me!" as the beating on the door became much less frequent.

The Spy could not help but smirk. "Later," he told him, placing a lit cigarette into his mouth as the building eventually went silent.

"Victory!" the Administrator shouted over the Lumberyard's speakers. Pre-recorded clapping and cheering sounded, and in spite of the gruesome manner in which he dispatched his enemies, he cheered back. This truly was his finest hour. Nine against one, and he had come out on top. He had succeeded where his boneheaded teammates had failed, and now the Lumberyard belonged to them.

His cheering session ended, though, once he teleported back into the BLU spawn room with his other teammates, who patted him on the back and congratulated him.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please," he said to them, still feeling satisfied with himself, "it was all in a day's work. Now, let us take the bus back to the barracks and get some sleep."

"No time for that, Spy! We have four more rounds of this to do, and if we lose even one of those, then we get kicked out of the Lumberyard for good!"

The cigarette dropped out of his now-agape mouth. "…_What?_"

"Oh, don't worry about that! You're the new team-carrier! All you have to do is win four more rounds like you did last time!"

"I do not think you understand, Soldier," he said, absolutely seething, "I cannot simply repeat-"

"Sounds good!" Wearing that goofy smile on his face, he shouted, "Forward, recruits! Into the flames of war we go!"

As soon as they charged out, everyone but the Spy was suddenly liquefied by a critical stickybomb flung across the map by the RED Demoman. Once again, he was all alone against nine mercenaries, all of whom remembered the trick he had pulled and were probably going to mercilessly beat him when they found him.

"Forget it," the Spy muttered to himself, turning invisible with the Cloak and Dagger while exiting through the back door. Maybe Gray Gravel Co. would appreciate an agent of his caliber more than the incompetent beginners he was stuck with…


End file.
